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Todd squeezed Jeremy’s elbow excitedly and whispered, “Sarah looks incredible.”
And she did.
Throughout the performance, the four women who’d lived far different lives and succeeded in different realms that both furthered feminism and African American rights dramatized a world in which they’d all lived together, working side-by-side. The script was truly inspired, drawing Nantucketers into the world of history, womanhood, and the hope these women had all those years ago.
Sarah spoke eloquently, marching across the stage like she owned the place. Jeremy teared up several times, remembering the Sarah from a month ago who hadn’t been able to sit up straight. He prayed whatever this health was, that it would stick.
The performance itself was no more than a half-hour long. When it finished, the teenage girls jumped back to the center of the stage to bow low as the crowd roared with applause. Todd and Jeremy were the loudest, bringing their jock voices to a civilized theater performance. They didn’t care.
After another bow, the four teenage girls beckoned to someone off-stage, calling out to her. Sarah jumped toward the microphone to say, “We’d like to introduce two wonderful Nantucket artists— the writer of the theater piece, Greta Copperfield, along with her daughter, our beloved director, Alana Copperfield.”
Jeremy’s heart dropped into his stomach. Beside him, Todd gasped, overly dramatic, his hand over his mouth. A split-second later, Alana Copperfield led her mother, a much older version of the Greta Copperfield Jeremy had once known, out onto the stage. The applause roared. Together, Alana and her mother bowed low and then drew themselves back up, hugging as tears rolled down their eyes.
Sarah then split from the rest of her teenage friends, headed straight for Alana, and wrapped her arms around her, her eyes closed.
Had Sarah ever hugged Jeremy like that?
Jealousy snaked itself around Jeremy’s neck, so much that he nearly suffocated. Todd gaped at him, his eyes demanding.What are you going to do now?
Jeremy felt overwhelmed with anger, a familiar kind that he’d used back in the old days of football. Back then, he’d charged out onto the field, prepared to dominate. Perhaps this was no different.
